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Something I thought about while eating dinner, so I wrote it,

Mystery / Horror
Age Rating:

Chapter 1

My day started as usual, I woke up, walked to work, enjoyed my job, and dread coming home. I live alone..in an apartment. It’s pretty pointless to have since I tend to spend the most of my time at my mother’s house. She seemed devastated for me to have moved out, she really loves me, after all I am an only child.

Now, here’s a little background on me, I never actually gave in to any form of therapy or religion, nothing big that really drives me except for temporary obsessions and impossible daydreams. I really just go on with my life and planned that from the beginning and expect nothing from the end, more of a “once i get there, I get there” thing. Though there have always been many things holding me back, like refusing to socialize, random urges of aggression, always feeling anxious, feeling paranoid, or sometimes, hearing voices..

These are tolerable, I tend to roam with the mindset that there is always worse elsewhere, but these unlike any other bring me down. These voices always make me upset, the things they tell me and show me has made me too afraid to interact with the world. They try to tell me these thoughts are who I am. These ways of thinking, had always made me feel like a villain. I don’t know who I really am because I'm torn between these beyond vivid intrusive thoughts, if I could even call them that, and who I want to be. It makes me wonder if my soul will someday succumb to these voices. I wonder if I'll become sick and consumed by rage and hatred..but for now I'm aware this isn't me. Regardless of what it is the voices are so dark that you bang your palm against your head and feel like screaming because of your guilt of even thinking of such filth.

You’d think that it’d be easy to just ignore them but it’s not that simple. These voices have a mind of their own. They have demands. Sounds like those OCD mental compulsions right? that make you “Run around that pole 10 times or your family will die.”

They aren't that similar.

The reason I say they have a mind of their own is because the threats actually take action when you don't follow the demand. These demands aren't as simple and random as running around a pole, they make you do horrible things to yourself in exchange for another life. A part of you will believe that, it is logically impossible, I mean it’s just a thought right? How can you get trapped into these delusions that they are very much real? What do you mean "why risk it?" or "Why let it happen?" They don't actually come true right? Not I'm my case.. because when I don't carry out he deman, people really do die.

Of course I haven't told anyone, I'd end up in a psych-ward for being an endanger to myself, and if I'm held against my will, how will I do what the voices tell me and prevent another death?

On my way to my friend’s place from work, I get a phone call from my mother, looking down from the windshield to my phone I answer, “Hello?” she wonders if I could make it to her place later tonight after work. I was already out so might as well cancel my friend’s plan right? Well maybe not, I visit her everyday, just one day won’t hurt right? The voices are back again..

"Crash your car and live? Or take your mother's life."

I've always loved my mother, she's always loved and understood what I was going through. She never sent me away and when she saw my scars she'd just hold me close and cook my favorite meal. I've never gotten threats against her until now.

Conflicting between them, I was so stuck on the demand that I hardly noticed the semi truck colliding into me. Then came darkness. Everything is dark. I’m not in pain, every feeling is fuzzy and numb, the smell of the collision resembles that of gunpowder or Fireworks? I’m trying to remember what happened but my brain can only process a slowed, blurred, slideshow of it all.

A part of me thinks of how I seemed to not care about my current situation or of how I did not have enough of that time to think much of it before it happened. Once again, here I am wondering why I exist and if my purpose is to protect, or if my purpose is to suffer. ..Just laying here in this damaged car, I have no motivation nor intention to move. Someone will find me right? Oh wait, people have. Many for that matter, and i’m not in a car, i’m in an ambulance.

The murmurs of the worried people around me sound like gibberish, oh how I could tell them I’m fine, but I can’t bring myself to say it. My mind is telling me not to say it.. Maybe I should just sleep this off. I know problems won’t fix themselves but for now neither should I. In the hospital bed, I have the moment of nearly facing the end of my life on repeat, wow. It’s so quiet, and I don’t mean the beeping of the heart rate monitor, or the cries of my loved ones, but in my head, the voices finally had stopped. Silly people crying like I'm a goner, I’m still alive and well, can’t you see my heart rate? Everything is okay so why are they still crying? Maybe I should just open my eyes and speak again, that sounds good..

..what the hell..I can’t move, I can’t speak, I can’t do a thing...

I hear the steps of the doctor come in, I guess when you lose your sense of sight and movement, other senses such as hearing are heightened. This must be a coma.. In the cases where you can hear but not see right? I should be fine, sleeping for a while right? No more responsibility for a while..

“Will he be alright?? He won’t die will he?!” That’s my mother! Of course not..I’m right here, it’s just a coma. I’m only asleep, this is all temporary.. “I’m afraid he’s brain is dead, which would mean that his brain is no longer working in any capacity and never will again. His other vital organs will still function as long as they are on artificial life support, there will be no chances of him having recovery and legally, your son is considered deceased, i’m sorry. If it eases your heart, he is no longer in pain and can no longer feel pain..” After “brain dead”, everything else the doctor said was drowned out noise, all I could hear was the screaming sobs of my mother..

But that’s when I heard it, the sound of the voice, my inner silence was ripped open by a voice that was different than usual. It spoke loud and clear as if I were listening to it through a pair of headphones, it sounded nothing like me..”Now you’ve done it..” the voice said. Maybe it was just my mind scaring me, it is only my mind. It reminded me..that if it wanted to, it could make demands knowing I couldn't act on them. This was a punishment for brushing it off. A wave of fear spreads across my body and I can hear my own heart monitor speed up.

“Doctor, is there anything we can do? I refuse to let my son die this way..” Yes, mother, just put me to sleep.. “I don’t care about the expenses, let me take my baby home.” No. end it here and now, before anyone else gets hurt. "There is a way" the doctor muttered. Dread. Utter dread. What kind of life would I be living. I'd feel nothing but misery, with this thing inside me, the thought that I could never wake up but live everything I hated about my day to day life and held me back the most, is all I'll have. Apart from that I have no control over how to fix it, no control over my body, and no control over half of my thoughts. I really have let that rage consume me.

They put me in a wheelchair, after connecting everything they could to my body in order to live, they were so delicate with my “corpse.” Right off the bat I was eligible to get an arrangement where they’d install a hospital bed in my mothers home..

They either had me strapped to a wheelchair to keep my body from limping, or in a bed.

It was a ritual for my mother to sit by my bedside and talk to me. She’d talk about nonsense and I’d actually listen, I’d get so bored and so scared I’d be like this forever, having nothing to say about it, I’d actually get sad when my mother would go. I beat myself up for how I’ve been as a son to her, the only time I got to hear her out was when I was considered dead.

Oh no, a regret. That voice would normally show up whenever I feel guilty, and take these feelings to the extreme. Make me do bad things to redeem myself. Though I can’t do bad things, so I must get my brain to change the subject, but I can’t stop thinking about something when focusing too hard on getting rid of it. Though apparently when I think too hard, my mother catches me twitching or the movement of my fingers. She’s called the doctor a few many times about it. They told her that this wasn’t out of the ordinary.

If only they were.

Sometimes at night, when my father sleeps. My mother would enter my room and stroke my hair, she’d whisper to herself. “I know you’re alive, I know you’re in there. I know you hear me, you never died.” It’d feel off putting but, what could I possibly do about it. Then she’d just walk back to her room.

A week goes by and it only feels like an eternity, I’ve been going insane. If I weren’t already, but I haven’t heard that voice. I haven’t been able to do anything to trigger it. Literally.

Worst part was the tubes, for feeding. They assured my parents that I’m incapable of feeling pain. But that’s far from the truth, I can feel it all. But I can’t scream, can’t flinch, or do anything. Why is it that I have no brain activity, and my pain receptors aren’t functioning, yet here I am conscious and feeling it all? It just doesn’t make any sense, but like I said, here I am.

I wonder what keeps me alive. I’ve never been big on religion but I pray something happens, whether I come back or I die, either works.

My mother came in at night again, she was angry. She was trying to get me to talk, to give her a sign, or something to prove my consciousness. So I thought, and thought hard, I thought about things that would irk at me the most, I thought about the things that’d make me cry. Nothing. Mother walked out of the room frustrated, she stopped at the door frame, “I’ll try something to get you to answer me..” Then she left.

I heard my parents argue in the other room, mother wanted to bring in a witch doctor, while father called her crazy. Only if he knew she was far from wrong, she was crazy but correct. “He’s dead, our son is dead, and it hurts for me to let go but I have to, this is absurd and we don’t need to let him go this instant but until you’re ready.” He had a point, all things gone you have to let go eventually, but it still hurt, the fact that he had given up on me.

Putting myself in his shoes, I can’t blame him either.

Another week passed, I’ve grown less worried about myself and more so worried about my mother, it was like I was watching her go more hopeless. She entered my room at night, and cried. “I’m sorry this happened, it’s all my fault, I’m so sorry.” Then again, she walked away.

I wonder what she was on about, I guess she is going crazy..

Father entered my room, it’s been a while since he has. He was sitting silently, and brushed my hair back. “You know, whenever your mother is in a tight situation, she can’t think properly. She acts recklessly and selfishly. I know there’s no saving you son. She doesn’t believe I’m hurting too, I had to let go, and not face you.” Father sighed, “It’ll be a long while before she gets on her feet again, so please hang in there, come back or wait longer, you’ll be at peace soon enough.” Then he walked away.

All this lying alone, unable to speak, unable to move, has made me realize how much I took living for granted. I was depressed, but for what? I get it now..and, I don’t want to die. The voices aren't my problem, natural selection, I could make exceptions for my parents but thatd be it.

Another night goes by, my mother doesn’t even bother entering, the following day she didn’t even feed me. Father even had to come in to do that. That voice came back, just to tell me that if I don’t get up and do something, it won’t be my family who gets hurt, but me.

Hungry, bored, a voice in my head telling me I’m going to die over and over.

I heard it in many voices, the voice of my father, my mother, my friends. Everyone and even my own and I couldn’t make it stop, I just wanted to scream from the top of my lungs but I couldn’t. “You’re going to die.” In a sobbing voice, but it wasn’t in my head. My mother was right next to my bedside and I heard her tap her nails against my life support that kept me here. She placed her hand on the plug and tapped on it as well, "Can you guess what I'm touching?.." then left the room.

I’ve never been so scared, if they let me go, what’ll happen to me? Will they burn my body? Will they bury me alive? I know I’m alive, so unplugging the life support won’t change a thing will it? Or would it be over for me?

The day passes by, nothing happens, mother feeds me, talks about her day, and leaves.

Then of course, night comes.

Mother comes in, and she’s silently sobbing with her face on the bed. I could hear slight sniffles and the sheets dampening. She then lifts her head up, and says “You know, it’s not your fault you were the way you were.” She chuckled and loudly blowing her nose, “When I was younger I did the same thing, Live but not really be there. Stuck in my head. Except, when I met your father, he always thought so logically, he told me that ‘The voices won’t touch you, they are only holding you back for nothing.’ He recommended that I ignore them for a day, and to tell him if anything happens, and to my surprise nothing did. Until I had you. I only noticed you had this when you started being hesitant with things you wanted and scars appeared on your body.. Even the day you got into that accident, I finally, after many years. Got a voice in my head that I yet again ignored. This time it said that if I don’t die, you will. She cried some more, my heart rate monitor speed up and she scoffs. “I know you’re not dead yet, because I keep getting these voices. They keep telling me it’s not over, so that’s how I know you’re still in there. I just hope you can forgive me."

I have been unplugged.

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